


Drinks With Tom: Part 1

by elle_and_em



Series: Licorice and Mint: Tales from New Darpana Bay - Volume 1 [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Dungeons & Dragons References, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, Original Character(s), Other, Slow Burn, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:59:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28545210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_and_em/pseuds/elle_and_em
Summary: This takes place before the events of Book 1, Part 3.Ahroun leads his pack of hunters like a family.  LIKE being the key word.  It just keeps them happy and in line.  The people he called family are all dead and gone, except for one person, not that he would ever say that out loud.This work cites lyrics by Fleurie.All rights belong to the respective recording artists.
Series: Licorice and Mint: Tales from New Darpana Bay - Volume 1 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2092254





	Drinks With Tom: Part 1

_**Licorice and Mint - Errata - Drinks with Tom 1** _

_“Soldier keep on marchin' on_  
_Head down 'til the work is done_  
_Waiting on that morning sun_  
_Soldier keep on marchin' on”_  
_Fleurie, “Soldier”_

=====================================================================

Kids, especially girls, tended to avoid Ahroun. But this little one glanced over her shoulder and flashed him her pearly whites before flopping down on the snow and giggling with her brother. Together, they waved arms and legs in the fluffy whiteness, shrieking at the cold.

Her lifeblood leaks out onto the snow, kidneys, liver, bone, and brain, all they are is meat in a skin wrapper--

“Hey.” A nudge brought him back. The red dragonborn glanced down. The claws had gouged centimeter-long grooves into the wet wood of the park bench. He closed his eyes, took two deep breaths, and retracted them. The figure to his left was shorter than he was, and stockier. The blue dragonborn’s scales weren’t really blue, but the deep purple of an oil slick. When they’d first met, Tommy’s hide had been the color of cobalt glass. He’d never asked why it had changed over the years, and his friend had never offered an explanation. 

Tommy took a strong pull from a flask that stank of diesel. “You went away again.”

“Hmph.” Ahroun outstretched his hand for the flask and took a drink. “Goddamn, Dean.”

“Nine Pits. Even my mom doesn’t call me that anymore.”

“Your mom’s dead.”

“And good riddance. Fuck that whore.” Tommy cackled. He produced another flask from somewhere and held it up in mock toast. His fingerless gloves were stiff with old sweat and smeared with charcoal. The cloth crackled in the cold as he brought the metal to his lips. His eyes were yellow flint, watching the kids with a wary glare. They’d met here for the last several years. Tommy liked it because the bench was against the playground’s restrooms. Back to the wall, open space in front. Less chance for surprises.

“You eating?”

“You offering?”

The red dragonborn set a foil package on the seat between them. Yellow eyes flicked down to it, then away. Tommy never took it while Ahroun was looking. Sometimes he’d come back later and the food would be gone, sometimes not. With his old friend, it was hard to tell what to expect. 

“What is it?”

“Hotdogs.”

“Mm. I like those.”

“You could join us.”

“No.”

“We need someone like you. A veteran. You’d--”

“What? Have hotdogs every day?” Tommy’s laughing quickly turned into a hacking cough. Ahroun waited till he was done. If anyone else talked to him that way, they’d be eating through a straw, but somehow Ahroun could never find the anger with him. 

“Rats are better?”

“‘Blood is blood’.” The quote hung in the air, the unspoken meaning clear as day. 

“You think I’ve gone soft.” 

“That ain’t what I said.”

“It’s what you meant.” 

“I just think you used to be a fucking berserker and we used to eat LeQuin grunts for breakfast. And now you’re bribing me with hotdogs and nannying orphans. I watched you tear that LeQuin witch down with your bare hands.”

“That was fifty years ago, Dean. I was younger. So were you.”

“A berserker doesn’t give a rat’s ass about time. It’s in your blood. It’s who you are.”

“I still am. The enemy looks different now.”

“Fuck the enemy. It’s you that’s different.” Tommy rose to his feet. “Keep your hotdogs.” 

His face was fire as he watched the other dragonborn go, shuffling through the wet snow and out of sight. What had he expected? Sympathy? Not from the only person who knew him for who he really was. Tommy would give him the brutal truth, because that’s what he did. It hurt because he was right. 

The hotdogs hit the concrete with a smack, leaving a meat smear on the ground. Ahroun’s chest heaved, his breath hot in the air as it left his nostrils. 

The little one and her brother were no longer alone. A woman had grabbed each of their hands and was shuffling away. He caught the looks of fear in their wide eyes, the speed at which they walked to their cars. Within seconds, he was alone. 

The snow had begun to fall harder, blanketing the earth in silence. As he sat, the flakes sizzled on his skin, cooking the air into vapor around him. 


End file.
